


Come And Sit A While

by actingwithportals



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [4]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Gen, Ghost doesn't kill the Dreamers before defeating Absolute Radiance, Herrah continues to be Best Mom, Hollow is affection-starved, Hollow refers to themself as the Vessel, Hollow uses it/its pronouns, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Post-Embrace the Void Ending (Hollow Knight), So keep an eye out, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, hey look this is a full-blown series now!, it won't all be Bad Things Happen Bingo fills, that means there's gonna be more in this series, that's just how it started, they will get better with the whole personhood thing soon I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:02:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actingwithportals/pseuds/actingwithportals
Summary: The Pure Vessel hadn't expected to ever walk out of the Temple of the Black Egg, and it certainly hadn't expected to find a home and a family on the other side. Surviving the Radiance was one thing, but learning to live in a world it had been denied its whole life was a challenge it had never been prepared to face.Nor were the thoughts it could no longer ignore.(Bad Things Happen Bingo fill 4: Confined To Bed-Rest)
Relationships: Herrah the Beast & The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel, The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & Hornet
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722943
Comments: 29
Kudos: 194





	Come And Sit A While

**Author's Note:**

> Hi this piece gave me so much trouble and I'm still worried it's not actually that good or cohesive but -throws it at the world anyways-
> 
> This is a series now! I have many more oneshots planned, some of which will be more BTHB fills, but most of which will just be more scenarios I want to see written for this speculative post-game scenario I've delved into. With that said, if you have anything you think would be fun to see added to this series, please comment and let me know!
> 
> Title of the series, We Are Wide Awake Now, comes from the song Run Dry by Caspian (a friend pointed out a while back that the song has major Hollow Knight feels and I can no longer unsee this).

Deepnest was nothing like what it had expected.

It had always heard stories of the place; frightened whispers and unkind mutterings of the dangerous beasts that lurked in the dark like mindless husks. The Pale Court had seldomly regarded the Beast’s domain with anything but fear and contempt, yet as it lay settled in the centermost Den of the Distant Village, having now spent many days in this place, the Vessel couldn’t imagine considering Deepnest to be anything other than welcoming.

This was the home of its sister, of her mother – the Beast herself – and the Vessel could do nothing but associate a place belonging to them with the fondest of thoughts, as if Deepnest were somehow its home now as well.

It wasn’t supposed to think, but the Beast—Herrah said it was allowed. Hornet did too. They both reminded it frequently of this, and though it knew it should listen to whatever they said, it struggled to get past the fact that the Pale King had always forbidden such capabilities. He would be disappointed were He to find out its deviance. But Hornet had not allowed it to return to its former home yet to answer for its disobedience, and so its King was not around to order it otherwise.

Therefore, maybe then the Pale King wouldn’t be any more disappointed in it if it allowed itself to think fondly of Deepnest, and of its sister and the Beast. After all, its impurity had been so clearly made evident as it were. It had failed, and all of Hallownest suffered for that failure. There was no chance the Pale King wasn’t aware, that He didn’t already feel disappointed by that fact alone. If the Vessel wasn’t going to yet be taken to face Him, to pay for its impurities, then maybe it could continue for a little longer, and the Pale King wouldn’t hold that too sternly against it.

Herrah looked so proud when it let itself be impure, after all, and it did so desperately want that look to persist.

However, Hornet did not look as proud, but she rarely did look like anything besides worried. Whether just with it, or when talking to her mother, or even when talking to Midwife or the others who took up residence in the Den, its sister seemed to have a permanent expression of exhaustion brought on by concern upon her mask. The Vessel wasn’t sure if she were simply not sleeping enough, or maybe if her duties were heavily weighing her down. Whatever it was, it didn’t understand why she wouldn’t talk to her mother about her worries. Herrah was very wise, and she seemed to make everything better. She made the Vessel feel better, at least, so surely she could make Hornet feel better too.

The Vessel wished it could do something to make Hornet look less tired as well, but it was certain a large part of her exhaustion was its own fault. She was always fussing over it, worrying about it on nights it would wake from a nightmare, or scolding it not to move around in certain ways that would risk tearing open its wounds again. It wasn’t trying to be difficult on purpose; it truly didn’t want to give its sister any more trouble than she likely already had to deal with.

But its sister said it could think, as did Herrah. And over the past few days it was beginning to struggle with ignoring the numerous thoughts that pressed against the inside of its mask. It was certain that those thoughts more than anything were exactly what caused it to fill its sister with such anxiety over its wellbeing.

Midwife had told it before that it needed bedrest, and Hornet had agreed. She had said that until such a time came that its wounds had been able to heal more thoroughly, it was not to get out of bed and wander its new home.

It should have been an easy order to follow.

Hornet kindly sat with it often, usually weaving blankets and cloaks for the many inhabitants of Deepnest who had survived the Infection and required new silks, while it laid and watched. Sometimes she would even keep up a conversation, but without it responding she often let those fizzle out. At one time she did try to teach it a language of gestures, something specific to the beasts of Deepnest who required communication through hands and claws as opposed to mouths. The Vessel hadn’t responded to her teachings at the time; it didn’t think it should be learning to communicate. Even a language of signs would still be considered a voice, and it had never been granted that.

But it was now allowed a mind, so maybe a voice could be allowed someday too?

But Hornet wasn’t always able to sit with it. She was Deepnest’s princess, and a skilled hunter. She was often needed on the road, gathering food for her people and helping them reassemble their lives. She couldn’t always be there when it wanted her to be.

So, naturally, it had decided it should go with her.

Hornet hadn’t been keen on that idea, not in the slightest. It had managed to follow her nearly out of the Den before she noticed, and she turned on it with such a ferocity it would have recoiled if it didn’t know her better. She marched it back to the room where it had been allowed to stay, tucked it under the blankets she had provided for it, and commanded it not to get up until she returned.

It wasn’t used to recognizing feelings, but it was certain whatever it felt about that was something close to indignation. _Honestly sister, it was older than her by at least a few years. It could handle some walking._

These were the exact sort of thoughts it knew deep down were causing her such worry.

At one point during that day, while the night was still far off, it heard Hornet return, her voice carrying up from a tunnel below, near the kitchen, it suspected. Carefully, it unwrapped itself from its blanket cocoon and left the room to seek her out.

It had been right; Hornet was indeed in the kitchen. She was with Midwife, and they seemed to be preparing something with the honey reserves from the Hive. Likely some sort of treat for the young Weaverlings that Midwife had been seeing to lately. It hadn’t often heard of Hornet assisting with Midwife’s work, but she was skilled with food preparation, and if they were providing treats for the young of Deepnest it made sense that Hornet would be involved.

Neither she nor Midwife had yet noticed its approach, and with how preoccupied Hornet looked, and her back facing towards the entryway, it was sure it could reach her without her realizing it had entered the room at all.

It would be worth a try at least.

As quietly as it could, the Vessel came into the kitchen and slowly approached its sister’s back. She was leaned over a table, chopping some sort of meat that the Vessel couldn’t quite identify. Perhaps it shouldn’t sneak up on her while she was holding a sharp utensil, but it wanted to observe her work at least for a short moment before she sent it back to resting. And Midwife was otherwise preoccupied with something on the other side of the room; she would not likely notice it for some time.

The Vessel leaned over its sister’s shoulder and watched with interest as she chopped.

Unfortunately, despite the Vessel’s impressive silence, even an occupied Hornet wasn’t entirely without guard. She promptly turned around sharply, whipping the blade she held before her defensively as she jumped back onto the table, posed to strike and hissing threateningly.

The Vessel simply tilted its mask to the side in response to her reaction, not the least bit fazed by her aggression. She was jumpier than it had expected but having known her when she was still so young, it was hard to be intimidated by her now even as she was older and more capable. It looked down at the blade in her hand, then back up to her mask. Did she mean to attack it with that?

It only took a moment for her to relax her stance, slumping forward slightly and groaning in apparent annoyance. “Hollow, what are you doing out of bed? And what are you doing sneaking up on me like this?”

The Vessel couldn’t answer, deciding instead to tilt its mask in the other direction.

Soft laughter came from the other side of the room. “Perhaps they’re wanting a treat as well,” Midwife considered, sounding amused.

The Vessel looked towards her and then back to Hornet, taking a step closer to its sister where she was still perched on the table.

The annoyed look on her face melted into something more confused. “I do not believe they eat,” she answered Midwife. “Or are capable of such, for that matter. That isn’t what you were after, was it?”

The Vessel gave no other answer but to take another step closer to Hornet. It wasn’t sure how to convey that no, it hadn’t come looking for one of the honeyed treats, but had come looking for her. It settled for lightly bumping its mask against hers, looking down at her in a way that it hoped expressed its reasoning. _Sister had come back, and it had been alone. It would rather be with sister than alone. If sister were here, it wanted to be where she was._

It was unsurprisingly apparent that the message hadn’t been clear, because instead of Hornet responding in how it might have expected from such an answer, she sighed and shook her head. “You should not be up and walking about. The Den is not laid out in such a way that is easy for your kind to traverse, especially while injured. Come; you need to return to bed.”

Hornet jumped down from the table, took hold of the Vessel’s hand, and began guiding it away from the kitchen and back towards the room where it had been allowed to rest. It hadn’t wanted to go back and rest; it had wanted to be where Hornet was. But now that she was here and taking it back to that room, maybe she would sit with it again. The Vessel thought it would like that very much.

It really shouldn’t be so concerned with what it thought or what it would like. It should be listening to its sister.

When they returned to the room, Hornet told it to lie down once again, and just as with the time before she pulled one of the silk blankets over it and carefully tucked it around it.

“You are not too warm, are you?” she asked.

The Vessel did not respond, but it held Hornet’s gaze.

She was quiet for a moment before sighing yet again. That was something she seemed to do often around it. The Vessel didn’t think it liked hearing her sigh so much. She rested a hand against its mask for a moment, and then stood up, turning to leave.

She hadn’t come to sit with it, after all.

It hadn’t intended to reach out, but before it could acknowledge what it was doing, it had grabbed the hem of Hornet’s shawl. She immediately stopped to turn and look back at it, and whatever look she held was one it didn’t think it wanted to face, so it chose instead to look away towards the floor. She . . . she didn’t have to sit with it. Hornet always had important things to do; it couldn’t keep her from them.

The Vessel released her shawl and returned its arm under the blanket.

Hornet was quiet, and the Vessel could feel that she was staring at it. Hopefully it hadn’t upset her; it just hadn’t wanted her to leave yet.

What it wanted didn’t matter, _shouldn’t matter_.

“I will return later,” Hornet said softly. “There are still duties I must see to today, but I will come back as soon as I am able. Please wait here for me until then.”

And then she was gone again.

* * *

The Vessel waited for a long time.

It couldn’t have been more than a few hours, but it seemed like ages. It was used to waiting, it _had waited_ for literal ages in that Black Egg far above. Waiting should not have been so difficult, yet the Vessel felt as if it could not lie still, a nervous energy roiling within its void to the point that lying down for much longer seemed an unbearable feat. How long would it be before Hornet came back? Before she would come and sit with it again?

She said she would come back as soon as she was able. She came back every day, without fail. It shouldn’t be concerned. _It should be patient._

The Vessel couldn’t lie still any longer.

It sat up, carefully stretching its remaining limbs until it felt more relaxed. Though it continued to ache a great deal even these weeks later, and the stump where its left arm had once been often felt as if it was still burning with a poison that should no longer exist, it at least felt better than it had the day it arrived in the Distant Village. Of course, it was the rest it had to thank for that, and the care from Midwife and Hornet. That should have been reminder enough that it should stay put.

It should _stay put_.

Somewhere below, the Vessel could hear the shuffling of movement. It wouldn’t normally be any cause for notice – the Den was often occupied by the Devout who kept watch over their Queen – but the spark of hope that it was its sister returning home made the Vessel sit up straighter with excitement and listen intently. The sounds steadily made their way closer, further up and deeper into the Den, and eventually it could hear the noise settle somewhere not far from the room in which it was sitting.

That was the way to Herrah’s room. Had Herrah returned home?

The Beast was often occupied during the day, assisting her people with whatever needs they had in a more direct method than the Vessel had ever witnessed royalty involve themselves before. But the Beast had never been the sort to send others to do what she would not.

The Vessel had always admired that of her.

If the Beast had returned to her Den, the day must be getting late. Hornet would be coming home soon then, surely. It should wait for her, like she commanded it.

But Herrah was home as well, and she might be willing to sit with it if it were well-behaved enough.

Without delaying any longer on a decision, the Vessel rose and made its way towards the Beast’s room.

As it approached, the Vessel could begin to hear a deep rumbling coming from the end of the tunnel, and when it reached the room’s entryway it found her seated in the center of the floor, a large woven piece of silk pooled around her and four of her claws occupied with expanding the cloth further. The sound it had heard as it came closer appeared to be emanating from the Beast herself, and it took the Vessel a few moments to realize it was the sound of her humming quietly. Though it couldn’t place why, it found the melody to be somehow familiar.

It was comforting.

The Beast didn’t take long to notice the Vessel’s presence, her humming eventually coming to a stop as she turned her head to look at it. “You may enter, if you like,” she said. “You do not have to stand outside the door watching if you wish to come inside.”

The Vessel did wish to come inside; it wanted to sit with her, for her to sit with it, if Herrah would allow. She had not immediately sent it back to the room to rest, so it was hopeful that meant she would not take issue with its presence in the room at all. Without further consideration, it entered into the room and took a seat to Herrah’s right, careful to avoid the silk spread around her.

“You are feeling well enough to be up and moving about, I see,” Herrah noted, turning her attention back to her work. “You appear more stable on your feet then last I saw you walking.”

The Vessel did not respond but did watch her claws intently as she wove. They moved with great precision and speed; she must have known how to weave for a considerable amount of time.

“Weaving interests you, I take it?” she asked, though she did not seem to demand an answer. “I would gladly teach you, but I’m afraid it is not one of my more proficient skills, and I do not believe I would be equipped to find a way you could learn one-handed.”

The Vessel looked up from watching her work to turn its attention to her mask instead. It didn’t have a desire to weave. Or, it did not think it did. It wasn’t sure it really knew how to identify every desire it might or might not possess, having spent so long fiercely attempting to ignore such impulses. The Vessel returned its attention back to Herrah’s claws, but it scooted itself ever-so-slightly closer to where she sat. It was content to simply watch.

If Herrah had noticed it moving closer, she did not mention it, continuing instead to focus on her work. The Vessel wondered if she would start humming again. It hoped she would; the sound of her voice was pleasant.

Herrah did not resume her song, but she did continue to speak. It wasn’t much that the Vessel understood, as she had decided to explain the process of her weaving. It followed that the purpose was to create more fabrics to be cut and sewn into items such as blankets or cloaks or even pillow covers for the beasts of Deepnest, just as Hornet had been doing each night. There were always more claws needed for the work, and it was something she could do once returning home at the end of the day. It was apparent that she took the responsibility very seriously, and the Vessel found that it liked to hear her talk about that. It admittedly, however, didn’t understand as well the technical aspects of weaving that she tried to explain to it, but nevertheless it listened with rapt attention. Whatever had unsettled its void earlier seemed soothed by Herrah’s presence, so the Vessel took no complaints in how she chose to fill the silence as long as it could be allowed to stay.

Without realizing, it had moved closer to her again, but Herrah still did not make comment of this.

When it seemed she had run out of things to say, Herrah began to hum again. It was nice. Though she hummed quietly, the deepness of her voice vibrated throughout the room, making the Vessel feel as if it were cocooned in something that nothing unpleasant could ever break through. Like when she had held it those nights ago, and the nightmares of Light had been chased away by her comforting shadow.

The Vessel . . . thought it might like for her to do that again.

It wasn’t sure when it had happened, but at some point, it had moved so that it was right against Herrah’s side. She had still made no mention or complaint, so when the Vessel found itself slowly leaning towards her until it was rested up against her, it did not force itself to resist.

Herrah had acknowledged its movements now, but instead of giving it a questioning look or pushing it away, she untangled one of her claws from her weaving and carefully wrapped that arm around the Vessel’s back, gently shifting it closer.

She was warm, but not in a way that burned like the Light. It felt like a heavy cloak keeping out the chilled air, total and encompassing in a way that didn’t suffocate. The Vessel wasn’t sure it had ever felt so safe before, like nothing painful could dare reach it here.

Herrah’s song must have lulled it into some form of restfulness, because the next thing the Vessel knew it was curled up snugly against her, its arm wrapped around her front in a tight cling. It tried to relax its grip – it didn’t want to hold so tightly as to cause pain or distraction – but the Vessel found that it couldn’t bring itself to relent even slightly. It was so comfortable, and Herrah had still made no complaints; she just simply continued to hum her melody and weave her silk.

Besides, Hornet had told it that it needed bedrest, and that is exactly what it was getting. The bed in question just might have happened now to be Herrah.

At some point the Vessel must have truly drifted off into sleep, because when the peace became abruptly disturbed by the jarring sounds of voices, it nearly jolted out of its carapace in surprise.

“Hollow, I have been looking everywhere for you!” came the sound of Hornet’s voice, raised in what might have been anger, but from its sister the Vessel knew to interpret any higher level of volume as a simple fact of her countenance. For one who was so skilled at remaining silent in a hunt, she certainly liked to always speak with such . . . resonance. “You are supposed to be resting!”

“They seem to be resting to me,” Herrah replied calmly, almost sounding amused. “I might even wager they were asleep before you burst in like a storm.”

“They had me worried sick,” its sister accused in response to her mother’s words, before turning her attention back to it. “How did you expect me to react when I entered the room in which I told you to stay and did not find you there?”

The Vessel tilted its head to look in Hornet’s direction, looked back to Herrah, and then once again back to Hornet. _It hadn’t gone far, and it was with sister’s mother. It couldn’t possibly be anywhere safer._

“Though your concern was legitimate, it is ultimately irrelevant now,” Herrah said. “Your sibling is perfectly fine; they have been sitting with me for quite a while.”

Hornet huffed, and the Vessel could have sworn it felt her frustration like a physical thing. “That doesn’t change the fact that I was worried, nonetheless.”

“No, certainly not,” Herrah agreed. “So why don’t you sit down and relax with some weaving instead. There is more than enough room here for your company as well, daughter.”

Its sister did not immediately respond, but when she did it was with another agitated huff as she eventually seated herself on Herrah’s other side where she picked up a portion of the silk and began to work.

Herrah’s humming resumed once again, and though the Vessel could not see her, it could sense that Hornet had begun to lose some of her tension. Good, it was good that Hornet felt comfortable. The Vessel felt comfortable too, and it was glad that they could both be comfortable together. The room felt safe once more, and the Vessel relaxed again into Herrah’s side.

It wondered if Hornet got to have many nights like this when she was young, before the Sealing took Herrah away from her. It dearly hoped that she did.

The night must have worn on into the late hours, for some time later the Vessel had noticed the sound of Hornet’s breathing turn into something more regulated and decidedly asleep. It felt Herrah shift underneath it as she set down the silk in her claws, carefully folding the cloth and resting it before her.

“It is past time for turning in,” she whispered, and when she shifted again to stand the Vessel eased itself into a more upright position. Herrah carefully lifted Hornet up into her arms, where she was indeed sleeping soundly, and turned towards the door.

“Bed,” she stated simply, and when she made to leave the room, the Vessel obediently stood and followed after her.

Herrah walked towards Hornet’s room, and though the Vessel had not been told to follow her there, it kept closely behind her as she entered the room and gently laid Hornet down onto her bed, pulling the red silken blankets snugly around her and fluffing the pillows beneath her mask.

Its sister had grown so much since it last saw her before the Sealing, but lying there before Herrah as her mother delicately stroked her mask with a claw, she seemed like such a tiny thing still. By no means was she any longer a spiderling, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t little, no matter how big she acted.

Something warm swelled within the Vessel’s void, so much like that first day it had met her. It wasn’t sure what the word for the feeling might be but looking at the expression that permeated the layer of Herrah’s mask as she gazed down at her sleeping daughter, the Vessel imagined that whatever it felt Herrah was feeling too.

Would anyone ever feel a desire to look at it in that way?

Herrah leaned up, turning her mask to look back at the Vessel. “Bed for you as well,” she spoke quietly, and turned to exit the room.

The Vessel obediently followed her out.

It shouldn’t have been tired, but as it lay down on the bed when Herrah instructed, the length of the day seemed to catch up to it, despite its earlier rest. Just as she had done with Hornet, and as Hornet had done earlier with it, Herrah pulled the blanket up and tucked it around it, gently fluffing the pillow underneath its mask.

“You are sleeping better these nights?” she asked, and though it did not have words with which to answer her, the Vessel looked at her for a long enough moment that it hoped it conveyed an affirmation.

“You are welcome to come find me if further nightmares plague your sleep,” Herrah told it, and though it couldn’t imagine why she would suggest such a thing, it believed she fully meant that.

The Vessel did not respond, but it continued to hold her gaze, nonetheless.

The look must have been satisfactory, for Herrah rose and turned for the door, putting out the candles that kept the room lit during the day on her way out.

The room went dark, but it was not so absolute to the point of not being able to see Herrah’s profile still lingering in the doorway. Light from further down the hall filtered through, casting her form in a backlit shadow. Something familiar prickled at the Vessel’s void, something that brought with it the fervent hope that she would turn to look back once more.

For a moment she simply stood there, as if in waiting. The Vessel did not move, as it was for once content where it lay.

“Sleep well, Hollow,” Herrah spoke softly, her voice echoing with the memory of a comforting melody.

She turned to look back at it one last time, and for that moment the Vessel believed it could begin to understand just what that look might have meant.

Its sleep was devoid of Light that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Mother's Day, if your mom is/was a shitty person, Herrah is your mom now. I make the rules.
> 
> Some notes:  
> 1 Hollow doesn't realize PK is (we think) dead. This WILL be addressed later.  
> 2 The song Herrah was humming I actually imagined as being the Greenpath track but honestly nothing is actually set in stone, but it IS familiar to Hollow because they used to hear her sing it to baby Hornet.
> 
> If you liked it please leave a comment! They really help motivate me to write more :D


End file.
